Medea of Euripides Part 9

_Others._

Hast thou ice that thou shalt bind it To thy breast, and make thee dead To thy children, to thine own spirit's pain?

When the hand knows what it dares, When thine eyes look into theirs, Shalt thou keep by tears unblinded Thy dividing of the slain?

These be deeds Not for thee: These be things that cannot be!

Thy babes--though thine hardihood be fell, When they cling about thy knee, 'Twill be well!

_Enter_ JASON.

JASON.

I answer to thy call. Though full of hate Thou be, I yet will not so far abate My kindness for thee, nor refuse mine ear.

Say in what new desire thou hast called me here.

MEDEA.

Jason, I pray thee, for my words but now Spoken, forgive me. My bad moods... . Oh, thou At least wilt strive to bear with them! There be Many old deeds of love 'twixt me and thee.

Lo, I have reasoned with myself apart And chidden: "Why must I be mad, O heart Of mine: and raging against one whose word Is wisdom: making me a thing abhorred To them that rule the land, and to mine own Husband, who doth but that which, being done, Will help us all--to wed a queen, and get Young kings for brethren to my sons? And yet I rage alone, and cannot quit my rage-- What aileth me?--when G.o.d sends harbourage So simple? Have I not my children? Know I not we are but exiles, and must go Beggared and friendless else?" Thought upon thought So pressed me, till I knew myself full-fraught With bitterness of heart and blinded eyes.

So now--I give thee thanks: and hold thee wise To have caught this anchor for our aid. The fool Was I; who should have been thy friend, thy tool; Gone wooing with thee, stood at thy bed-side Serving, and welcomed duteously thy bride.

But, as we are, we are--I will not say Mere evil--women! Why must thou to-day Turn strange, and make thee like some evil thing, Childish, to meet my childish pa.s.sioning?

See, I surrender: and confess that then I had bad thoughts, but now have turned again And found my wiser mind. [_She claps her hands._ Ho, children! Run Quickly! Come hither, out into the sun,

[_The_ CHILDREN _come from the house, followed by their_ ATTENDANT.

And greet your father. Welcome him with us, And throw quite, quite away, as mother does, Your anger against one so dear. Our peace Is made, and all the old bad war shall cease For ever.--Go, and take his hand... .

[_As the_ CHILDREN _go to_ JASON, _she suddenly bursts into tears. The_ CHILDREN _quickly return to her: she recovers herself, smiling amid her tears_.

Ah me, I am full of hidden horrors! ... Shall it be A long time more, my children, that ye live To reach to me those dear, dear arms? ... Forgive!

I am so ready with my tears to-day, And full of dread... . I sought to smooth away The long strife with your father, and, lo, now I have all drowned with tears this little brow!

[_She wipes the child's face._

LEADER.

O'er mine eyes too there stealeth a pale tear: Let the evil rest, O G.o.d, let it rest here!

JASON.

Woman, indeed I praise thee now, nor say Ill of thine other hour. 'Tis nature's way, A woman needs must stir herself to wrath, When work of marriage by so strange a path Crosseth her lord. But thou, thine heart doth wend The happier road. Thou hast seen, ere quite the end, What choice must needs be stronger: which to do Shows a wise-minded woman... . And for you, Children; your father never has forgot Your needs. If G.o.d but help him, he hath wrought A strong deliverance for your weakness. Yea, I think you, with your brethren, yet one day Shall be the mightiest voices in this land.

Do you grow tall and strong. Your father's hand Guideth all else, and whatso power divine Hath alway helped him... . Ah, may it be mine To see you yet in manhood, stern of brow, Strong-armed, set high o'er those that hate me... .

How?

Woman, thy face is turned. Thy cheek is swept With pallor of strange tears. Dost not accept Gladly and of good will my benisons?

MEDEA.

'Tis nothing. Thinking of these little ones... .

JASON.

Take heart, then. I will guard them from all ill.

MEDEA.

I do take heart. Thy word I never will Mistrust. Alas, a woman's bosom bears But woman's courage, a thing born for tears.

JASON.

What ails thee?--All too sore thou weepest there.

MEDEA.

I was their mother! When I heard thy prayer Of long life for them, there swept over me A horror, wondering how these things shall be.

But for the matter of my need that thou Should speak with me, part I have said, and now Will finish.--Seeing it is the king's behest To cast me out from Corinth ... aye, and best, Far best, for me--I know it--not to stay Longer to trouble thee and those who sway The realm, being held to all their house a foe... .

Behold, I spread my sails, and meekly go To exile. But our children... . Could this land Be still their home awhile: could thine own hand But guide their boyhood... . Seek the king, and pray His pity, that he bid thy children stay!

JASON.

He is hard to move. Yet surely 'twere well done.

MEDEA.

Bid her--for thy sake, for a daughters boon... .

JASON.

Well thought! Her I can fashion to my mind.

MEDEA.

Surely. She is a woman like her kind... .

Yet I will aid thee in thy labour; I Will send her gifts, the fairest gifts that lie In the hands of men, things of the days of old, Fine robings and a carcanet of gold, By the boys' hands.--Go, quick, some handmaiden, And fetch the raiment.

[_A handmaid goes into the house._

Ah, her cup shall then Be filled indeed! What more should woman crave, Being wed with thee, the bravest of the brave, And girt with raiment which of old the sire Of all my house, the Sun, gave, steeped in fire, To his own fiery race?

[_The handmaid has returned bearing the Gifts._

Come, children, lift With heed these caskets. Bear them as your gift To her, being bride and princess and of right Blessed!--I think she will not hold them light.

JASON.

Fond woman, why wilt empty thus thine hand Of treasure? Doth King Creon's castle stand In stint of raiment, or in stint of gold?

Keep these, and make no gift. For if she hold Jason of any worth at all, I swear Chattels like these will not weigh more with her.

MEDEA.

Ah, chide me not! 'Tis written, gifts persuade The G.o.ds in heaven; and gold is stronger made Than words innumerable to bend men's ways.

Fortune is hers. G.o.d maketh great her days: Young and a crowned queen! And banishment For those two babes... . I would not gold were spent, But life's blood, ere that come.